Immolation
by Shiva Darkwater
Summary: Farfarello loves how Crawford hates to be covered in blood... (BradFarf)


**Author**: Shiva Darkwater **Fandom**: Weiss Kreuz **Rating**: PG-13 **Summary**: Farfarello loves how Crawford hates to be covered in blood... **Disclaimer**: I wonder if Koyasu ever knew that some fans would enjoy Schwarz more than Weiss. Maybe that's why they got nothing in Gluhen and then were cut out all together in Side B… Koyasu has a Schwarz jealousy. **Author's Notes**: This fanfic is strange. However… I think this is also one of my best. Two years ago this is how I would have made Schu act. I never used to think much of Farfarello at all. Oh how the times change. I want to thank my good friend Va-chan for helping me to open my eyes on a few more characters and pairings of Weiss Kreuz. And of course, this fic is muchly dedicated to her. I never would have considered myself a Farf fan, but I think I am definitely becoming one. Also, because I love all of Schwarz together… yeah… spot how many Schwarz pairings I've tried to make reference to.

Immolation

The apartment was dark once Farfarello had slipped inside. The only light in the living room came from the black and white movie playing on the television with Schuldig sprawled out on the sofa. He didn't even look up once the door had shut, but then Schuldig didn't have to – he already owned everyone's mind in the apartment anyway.

Wanna come watch? The invitation was in Farfarello's mind immediately, yet he declined with a shake of his head. He had something else to do, someone else to see tonight… not to take it personally.

Suit yourself. The redhead returned to his movie; the black blood on white flesh looking crude compared to the lovely, brilliant red…

Nagi's room was the first on the right, muffled music audible even though Crawford told the boy to wear headphones after ten. Teenagers always liked their music loud; it drowned out their thoughts; it rebelled against authority… Farfarello remembered those days, still lived those days. Tomorrow he would join the boy and they could crank up their music together.

The office ahead was dark; the door opened a fraction of an inch. To be a part of the household and yet separate, isn't that what the leader always thought of himself? A lamp was on in the study. With a gentle tap Farfarello opened the door wider, watching the body he knew would be in there hunched over the desk.

He stuck to the shadows, keeping himself hidden as he slowly skirted around the office, a smile tugging at his lips. Farfarello watched those broad shoulders tense with a small sense of satisfaction.

"I know you're there."

Of course he did. Crawford knew everything. He never doubted that in an instance. Unlike Schuldig who thought that Crawford was just playing them all, or Nagi who both idolized and defied him, Farfarello held the man in the highest of regard. He didn't know anything but Crawford did. Why shouldn't the blind follow the strong?

"Well? What did you come here for? I'm busy."

Farfarello left the shadows, coming up behind him and leaning himself on Crawford's back. A muscle twitched in the other's neck and he couldn't restrain the urge to lick at it. "I came… for you."

A small noise left Crawford and Farfarello pushed closer, rubbing his nose against the other's neck in a gestured that almost seemed affectionate. A single gold eye watched Crawford's nose wrinkle in disdain. "You reek. And you're getting my clothes dirty."

Crawford always hated to be covered in blood. His smile twisted further. "It's the ultimate offering…"

"It's vile. Go clean yourself up and I'll deal with you then." Crawford however made no move to push the other away. "I'm taking my dry-cleaning costs out of your salary."

"Salary?" Farfarello sneered, licking his tongue along Crawford's jaw. He was amused at how the other shuddered. But Crawford was helplessly pinned under him. It was the greatest thrill. "What use do I have with money Crawford? I wouldn't even know how to use it."

Crawford tensed further, the lead of the red pencil he was holding snapped under the pressure. "You're always this incorrigible after you go out. I said I would deal with you after you cleaned up. Now go." His tone was more commanding, more desperate. Farfarello had to back off.

"Come wash me up then…" the voice was soft, almost like a last request of a lost boy.

But the words made Crawford calmer, the tension leaving his shoulders and he slid his pencil into the electric sharpener by the side of his desk. "In a moment. Let me finish my work."

With a nod Farfarello took a step back, the expression in his golden eye unreadable, before he walked out of the room. Crawford was left alone to his own thoughts, only to find that he couldn't concentrate.

Schuldig raised his head from where it rested on a sofa pillow, watching with dark eyes how Brad followed Farfarello into the bathroom with a slow smile. He clicked the television off with his left hand before the remote dropped to the floor with a soft thunk on the carpet.

Nagi, can you hear me?


End file.
